Pyramid Scheme
by AEROrevolution
Summary: A suspected traitor at NCIS, and one very special agent ordered to find out who. When leads become life threatening and twists become so entangled within themselves who can he trust? Will everything crumble and NCIS become compromised?  TIVA


**Title :** Pyramid Scheme  
><strong>Pairing :<strong> Ziva David x Anthony DiNozzo  
><strong>Disclaimer :<strong> I do not own NCIS or any of its characters.  
><strong>Author Notes :<strong> This takes place right after "Pyramid" and devolves into a little espionage, story-arching from there. They left us with a lot of cliffhangers and a lot of open ends so it seems like a fun goal to try and tie them all together, all the while keeping the suspense and questions to a maximum. So here's my take on the traitor, the lies, the mole, and everything in between. Please read and review. Suggestions and help is always appreciated.

**- - - - - [ NCIS ] - - - - -**

It was inevitable. Unavoidable. Absolute.  
>When an organization as large and as daring as NCIS was in the picture, it was a God given fact that someone would try to weasel their way in through the cracks. It happened in the past, it was happening now, and it would happen again in the future. History had a funny way of repeating itself. Not entirely funny 'ha-ha' but more like the dry and lifeless chuckle that left your throat feeling raw and abused. Any voiced concerns died on his lips; he had a job to do and he was going to do it right. "Sir." He gave a tight lipped smile that revealed nothing aside from determination and recognition of the task handed to him. An ordinary vanilla folder and it felt like the weight of the world in a well compressed, classified military document.<p>

He took his leave quietly and promptly, knowing full well that his presence was no longer needed with so many officials circling one another in the room. The next time he would talk to them would be when a lead was made, a suspect discovered, and the situation dealt with to the best of his knowledge. There was a little over two hundred individuals working within the Washington based building. About half of them had security clearance, but that ruled nobody out. Special agents, secretaries, janitors, forensics, computer techs...the list seemed endless as they passed by his thoughts. They all required background checks. It was the starting point to any investigation. Relearn what you already know, always double check. People lie. The saying was, the only two certain things in the world are death and taxes. But Anthony Dinozzo knew for a fact that people lie, everyday whether they realize it or not. It was the much unspoken about third certainty.

Crossing the walkway to the elevators, it finally sunk in that he would lie as well. Every step of the way, just like with Jeanne. Except...except this time it wasn't just lying for the sake of following orders. This was lying to obtain information, twist alliances, and question motives. This was lying to his friends, family, coworkers. Everyone. Within the confines of the steel box in its slow descent, he allowed himself a moment of weakness. Shoulders hunched forward, heavy hand engulfing his face as he massaged the bridge of his nose. He could feel the underlying twist, the telltale sign of being broken one too many times.

They were given two weeks R&R due to the completion of the Port to Port Killer case coming to a close. Some viewed it as a minor reward, others as a chance to grieve. He would take the time to prepare for the case, form a plan, try to get some decent sleep somewhere in between. Truth be told he was returning to an empty apartment and for once in his life that didn't sound as bad as it should. EJ was out of the picture as far as he was concerned. There would be no more pointless flings, miniscule distractions, or harrowing playboy adventures. Just work. Maybe it was something he could get use to, over time. The emptiness.

The elevator finally rang out its arrival, opening the doors to reveal the nearly deserted parking garage in all of its concrete based glory. He noted that his mustang was in desperate need of a bath, not that it would happen anytime soon. Wiping a finger against the roof, he let out a small sigh at the fine layer of dust that had managed to collect already. Four days at headquarters seemed to prove neglect to his long loved baby. There was a time when he would pull her through the car wash at least once a day, sometimes more if he felt the need to get her polished or freshen up her tires. When was the last time he had even went out for an aimless drive? He couldn't remember.

"Have you forgotten how to use a key, Tony?" Her silky voice startled him into awareness, one hand on his chest, the other shifting the file behind his person.

"Zee-Vah." He stretched her name out in mock annoyance, narrowing his eyes at her as she emerged from around her Mini-Coop. "As much as I appreciate your constant attempts to give me a heart attack, I'll let you know when I'm in need of your lock picking services."

She rolled her eyes, tossing him a careless wave. "I am more worried about your head than your heart. Muttering to your car as if it is alive."

"I was muttering?" Years of partnership, they should know these things about one another automatically. They do, really, whether they consciously admit to it or not. Yet every time it catches him completely off guard, realizing something like that. Knowing that no matter what, she can read him like an open book. With anyone else, it would unsettle him. With her though? It was different. There was a trust there he couldn't explain.

She bit back a smile but they both caught it nonetheless. "You mutter when your head is up in the atmosphere."

For once he doesn't try to correct her, because he can't find the energy to bring it up. He settles on shooting her a look that earns him a raised eyebrow in response. Unspoken communication that's saved both of them far too many times to count. Some words need speaking, he knows, so he drops his shoulders and reaches out almost timidly, stopping just short of her hair. "How's the head?"

Head injuries made him nervous for a variety of reasons. They either bled too much or they bled too little. There was memory loss, major injuries, minor chances in attitude or behavior that signaled a much larger underlying issue. There had been too much blood and too much talking out in that farmhouse, he knew that much. There wasn't enough time and not enough medical knowledge for him to feel at ease about the situation. There were only so many times you could take such a blow to the head, and she'd taken them all in stride. "Fine." She motions as if to stop there, but he catches a look in her eye he can't exactly place. "It was carelessness on both ends. I should not have left without backup and he should not have left the job unfinished." There is no bitterness in her voice, just observation as if talking about a different person all together. Dissociating is one of her strong suites.

She's already begun to walk back to her car, a slight edge in her walk that tells him she still has a headache. Almost six hours later and she still has a headache. By Gibb's request she had gone to see Ducky, but nobody had questioned the verdict. Nobody needed to, as long as she was sent back up and able to complete the task at hand. "Have a good night, Ziva." The door of his car is unlocked, but he makes no move to get inside. Choosing instead to watch her leave.

Her Mini Coop pulls up behind his car as the passenger window rolls down, sunglasses firmly in place despite it being far too dark outside to make a difference. "Jimmy is getting married." And with that she's gone, leaving him twice as confused as before. Tossing the file into the passenger seat, he rests his head on the steering wheel, trying to figure out where or why that even popped up in the conversation at all. A biting gesture to his loneliness? No. Had CIA Ray finally popped the question? No. She wasn't wearing a ring. It didn't matter. Right now, none of it was his concern. Underlying meanings, weddings, or questionable partner conversations.

He would go home, and he would sleep.  
>He would wake up, and start his investigation.<p> 


End file.
